Vivian Maier

On Vivian Maier's walks through the city she watches a 1950s girl in a prom dress emerge from the dark into the soft light of a street lamp. She appreciates the humour in two little girls sharing secrets against a wall and sometimes she stops to take a self-conscious self-portrait of her reflection in a shop window.

We know what went on on these walks through Chicago because she recorded all of it with her Rolleiflex camera. Vivian Maier is the recently discovered Chicago street photographer of the 1950s and 1960s and took all these pictures, which were then swiftly forgotten and hidden in boxes of undeveloped films for forty years. They were discovered via a chance purchase at an auction, and now, as each set is developed, seem to enchant everyone who sees them.

Screen grabs from Chicago Tonight

What each person is thinking about is intriguing in every shot, and imagined circumstances just present themselves. My favourites are the smartly dressed man balancing on his chair and the man with the hat asleep in his car on a summer's day. That Vivian worked as a nanny all her life, and died essentially penniless makes the story behind every click of the shutter all the stronger.

Although she wasn't a street 'style' photographer, Vivian puts specialised photographers like The Sartorialist (he of the visual life) to shame with her ability to capture an eye-catching outfit alongside an intriguing story or curious atmosphere in every shot.

I wonder about this century, in which we document everything, interesting or not. While most may not have the level of skill that Vivian Maier had, and kept hidden all her life, everything we do is archived online or on hard drives, and I wonder if we early twenty-first-century people will ever hold an air of mystery for future generations. Can you imagine, in fifty years' time, getting excited at the prospect of watching a drama series set in a 2011 advertising agency in London?

These are all screen grabs from a video that you should watch if you want to hear more of the story. It can be found here. In the words of one YouTube commenter: 'Wow, breathtaking. If she had had a Tumblr, her stuff would really have gotten around.'

Duffle

I've never been a duffle coat girl. 'Too much Paddington Bear, not enough shape' says my inner monologue. Sometimes though (often, actually), my inner monologue needs to be a bit more open minded, and this, to a certain extent, is one of those occasions.

Despite all of that, this is not my duffle coat, borne of a sudden change of heart after years of duffle-aversion, but my mother's, from NW3 at Hobbs (the young trendy Hobbs collection – she's neither old nor serious enough for the Hobbs part yet, she says – I agree).

The coat and I are on the rocks just outside my mother's house on the Isle of Islay. I think every child who has ever grown up in the village grew up mostly clambering and scrambling over them. My sister and I used to decorate carefully-chosen rocks with things we found on the shore, and play house; sending letters to each other via slates and chalk. When it was stormy, we'd go down and marvel at the high tide. On calm days I'd sit and watch the ripples quietly ripple in. I'm quite attached to these rocks, as it happens.

The coat's best feature, in my opinion, is the part that makes it less a typical duffle coat and more of a coat that comes in at the waist (my preference) – the lovely cut at the back. The lining is also very pretty, and the coat itself is probably the cosiest one I've ever worn. All in, I think I like it, although probably not enough to buy one for myself.

I've topped off my largely borrowed outfit with my sister's Christmas present – the vintage looking leather laptop bag, which I'm a big fan of. It's a little bit Mulberry-esque, I suppose. The gloves belong to me (a Cath Kidston Christmas present), as do the riding boots, which I got from Islay's only charity shop.

Every time I go back to Islay, I wonder if I could live there – life always seems so much simpler. Lots of peat fires, long walks on beaches and cosy whisky. I'd like to some day I think, but not soon, and not forever – it's a hard place to live in the winter when the newspapers don't arrive and the mail is cut off because of a fierce storm. On the other hand, fierce storms and stormy seas are kind of exhilarating, and who needs newspapers really?

Duffle coat: NW3 at Hobbs
Jeans: Topshop
Boots: Charity shopped
Gloves: Cath Kidston
Bag: Atwood

Sally Scott

This evening, snow is forecast in my corner of England, which always leaves me wondering once again whether it is at all possible to wear something blizzard appropriate and be happy with it. I suspect not, although this New York Times video gallery of New Yorkers and tourists in the snow over Christmas would suggest that a fur coat is the way forward. As fur coats aren't really my thing, here I turn to the Sally Scott winter lookbook.

All images from Sally Scott

My suspicion is that I'm late to this – a suspicion confirmed now that I realise that it is from last year's winter collection. This is another collection of photographs that evokes an atmosphere and a lifestyle rather than making a lot of the clothes themselves, which I am in two minds about – I like the atmosphere, but I would prefer to see more of the clothes.

As far as I can make out, Sally Scott is from Japan, making it very difficult to buy anywhere else, but it isn't so very original – similar pieces shouldn't be too difficult to find. This colour palette is something I'm always drawn to – muted mustards and chambray blues with the odd strong colour to bring out the others. It's winter clothes viewed through a springtime lens.

More than anything though, in a very British way, it is quite possible that as the temperature slowly descends outside my door, my favourite part of this lookbook is actually the stylish presence of tea.

A Happy New Year

I've had a bit of an internet holiday this last week – I've swapped it for snowy driving to Wales for Christmas and more snowy driving to Scotland for Hogmanay. The west coast of Scotland is positively springlike compared to English temperatures, and I'm not looking forward to returning to my chilly flat on Monday.

In Bristol, the Christmas Steps are Christmassy all year round, but I always find them especially pleasing in December. I ended up going up and down them far more than I expected before Christmas due to some emergency present buying. In the end, Benjamin and I decided instead to bake chocolate and hazelnut biscotti and put them in a little bag with a ribbon around the top as little gifts for the people we forgot to buy for. They are super easy to bake and make for much-appreciated presents – the recipe we used is here, if you're interested.

My Scottish New Year has been catching up with my feral turned 2011 house cat, Muesli, falling off my mother's new horse, drinking gin made in the distillery across the road and taking long New Year's Day walks along the beach with Ben, my little sister, and Jock, the Westie who loves to run in the sand. He steals the show some. Now for some apple tarte tatin, and a viewing of a home video of my mother and grandparents in the 1960s to round off a perfect New Year's Day.

Wishing you all the best for the New Year! I'm looking forward to seeing what it has in store.

Postcards from Japan

Apparently, if you visit Japan, it's very easy to get very caught up in the wild atmosphere of buying things – which I suppose is what we all do here in December – the Japanese just keep that intensity up over the whole year, which sounds quite stressful.

So say our friends who came back from Japan a few weeks ago, anyway. Benjamin and I looked after their wild cat who chases her own tail while they were away, and they brought these things back for us. Faced with shops full of such sweet things, I'm not sure I could control myself at all in Japan.

The little puss paperweight at the top is so characterful. I could take photographs of him all day. The book is amazing – I'm easily seduced by Japanese book bindings. It's almost better that I can't understand the captions.

White

Despite a birthday at the beginning and Christmas at the end, and a real, serious frugality the rest of the year, in December, I buy things. Luckily, so does everyone else, so my wild coveting is disguised as Christmas spirit. Even I'm fooled by it.

Here are a couple of things that have been collecting in my little covetables folder all year – things I could never really justify buying for myself, but would really enjoy buying as gifts! People give to others what they like to receive themselves, after all.

1. Penguin Classic Hardbacks 2. Saint James Breton Top

These redesigned hardbacks are so unusual, and I like the way publishing is turning to fancy bindings and design to keep readers buying the classics. A set of Fitzgeralds and Hemingways would be perfect reading to prepare for a year full of 1920s influences. My current copies are so scrawled on and full of post-its that I think it might be time to buy a copy I can actually read without cringing at my terrible schoolgirl literary criticism.

1. Anthropologie dress 2. Victorian candle holder 3. Caribou Snow boots

I'm quite pleased with how incongruous clumpy snow boots are in this selection - but could there be anything more useful? Last winter I slid around on pavements, fell over six times on my way to the dentist, and swore I'd save up for these. I forgot all about it in the summer though, of course. The Victorian candle holder reminds me of dark Christmas power cuts when I was little, and of wispy Victorian gentlemen asleep in their nightcaps.

1. New Year's Shine & Sparkle Dress 2. Bialetti Espresso Pot

This is such a pretty dress if you have a New Year party to go to, in a great shape and at such a good price. I'll be secretly devastated if somebody buys it before me. I could probably console myself with the prospect of making affogatos with the espresso from an espresso pot though.

Clevedon

An old English Victorian seaside town out of season, Clevedon in December is far more beautiful than it is in July. No tourists with ice cream cones buying expensive lunches in seafront locations and fighting over the outside seats – in December the sea is calm, the anglers are watchful and the sea mist swirls around and makes an atmosphere out of it all.

The pier is Clevedon's jewel. John Betjeman called it 'the most beautiful pier in England' and it must be – its long spindly legs create such delicate arches. The wet beams are recycled railway sleepers, paid for by tiny brass plaques inset into the wood and engraved with the names of the people who bought them. The glorious pavilion at the end is quiet now, but becomes a seaside cafe in the summer. I realised when I was there, that this is the pier that is used in the publicity posters for 'Never Let Me Go', the new Keira Knightley film.

When Ben and I strolled along it, the pier was completely deserted bar the quiet anglers with their bowed heads. It was pouring with rain and the mist was rolling in. I felt like my 1940s coat deserved an attempt at 1940s hair, which I quite like I think – It's nice to have a fringe break now and again. The coat I bought in a charity shop – it's heavy and the cut is perfect for me – it feels very grand.

Coat: Vintage 1940s
Leather gloves: Vintage
Tights: H&M
Shoes: Topshop